


Stranger in a Strange Land

by ErisianDiva78



Category: Cut & Run - Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 19:19:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5796709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErisianDiva78/pseuds/ErisianDiva78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was taken from them at an early age and returned much, much later. It's a dark reunion full of angst and hurt. And only Ty can truly understand what he's been through.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AU. This is totally AU. And it's one of those things I don't expect to take off. But it's a plot bunny that's taken residence in my head and needs told. Imagine a world where there were 3 Grady boys. Yes, three. The youngest was kidnapped at 2 and raised elsewhere. The environment was not pleasant. And he was treated as property. Now imagine Nick finding said boy and reuniting him with his long-lost family. Cue angst and heartbreak. This is pre-T&G Ty and Zane. No Ty hate here. Team Ty and Zane all the way

The interrogation room was too fucking cold for the thin shirt he was wearing. It caught on the rough, threadbare chair he sat against. But he refused to alert his keepers to his discomfort. Any outward show of weakness could be used against him. Too-long hair obscured handsome features. But then, he wasn't looking for the attention. Not at the precinct. Reid Grimm knew better than to fuck with the cops in that way. He'd tease them mercilessly and offer jokingly, because that was how he was. Especially O'Flaherty. He had never bothered to learn the guy's first name, but they'd crossed paths a few times in the past. Mostly run-ins where he was in and out the same evening. This was the first time O'Flaherty had taken a vested interest in the brunet. Reid brought a hand up to chew at an already bitten-too-short nail and regarded the Detective from underneath the hair.

 

"There a reason I'm here, _Officer_?" He smiled up at the Detective. Baiting the man, was what he was doing. He knew the guy was a Dick. He'd recognized O'Flaherty when the guy'd come onto him on the corner. Propositioned him. He could've walked away, but the urge to flaunt what he was, knowing that the older man couldn't touch him in that way, was heady. "Y'know, that offer's still on the table. Could get the fuck outta here and make that fifty bucks worth your while."

 

The Detective rolled his eyes and cocked a hip against the table. "I'm not taking you up on your offer, kid." But there was a touch of amusement to his tone. Kid. There was a handful of years between them. A decade at most. 

 

"Then why am I here? You'd've arrested me by now if you were gonna do it." Spoken like someone who already knew how it worked. And he did. He'd been arrested for soliciting too many fucking times to count. Didn't stop him from wandering the streets, though. Had to make rent somehow. And the fucking strip club owner had been withholding everyone's pay for the last month and a half. He had bills to pay too, just like any other working stiff.

 

"You're here because I have questions for you." O'Flaherty kept staring at him. It wasn't the usual ogling, either. Reid found himself fighting a slow-building case of the fight-or-flight response to that too-keen stare. It was unnerving and weird as hell. 

 

"So fuckin' ask already. I got shit to do and you're keeping me from it." He grumbled, turning away from those eyes to examine his nails. Anything to keep from making eye contact. 

 

"You mean you have more assholes to buy your time tonight?" 

 

Reid grinned at that, but it wasn't happy. It was just par for the course. "You know I can neither confirm nor deny that, _Officer_. I know my rights."

 

"Right, because doing that means I can book you for solicitation and prostitution again and you can spend the night here."

 

Reid pretended to pout, complete with pooched out lower lip. "And then who would feed my kitties?"

 

"I have the feeling you don't have pets." O'Flaherty retorted. "And you know goddamned well that it's Detective."

 

Reid shifted and gazed up through his lashes, knowing full well what he could accomplish when he put forth the effort. Even this guy wasn't immune. He stepped back, and tightened his jaw. "I know. I just like watchin' you squirm. And how the fuck would you know if I had pussy at home or not?"

 

The Detective snorted derisively and glanced toward the door. He didn't bother to answer the question. Reid's eyes narrowed. Was this asshole waiting for someone else? Great. He knew what lay beyond the mirror and knew they were probably being watched. By whom, he didn't know. At the moment, he didn't want to care, but he did. He'd said he had questions, but none were forthcoming. Nothing was asked. Was this some new interrogation technique? Maybe something big had gone down in his neighborhood and they'd pulled some of the nightlife off the streets. Nerves that had been slowly roiling in his stomach, making him acutely aware of everything around him pushed to the surface.

 

"What's this really about, man?" He reached up and scratched at the five o'clock shadow, trying to look nonchalant and probably failing. His clients, he'd found, liked the rugged look, though there were a few that preferred him clean-shaven. Made him look younger. He didn't much care for those jobs. They reminded him too much of his childhood. Reid ruthlessly tamped down that line of thought and shifted in his chair. Long fingers tapped out an absent rhythm against his pleather-covered thigh and he fidgeted some. He couldn't afford actual leather pants, and the pleather seemed durable enough. And the clients liked _that_ too.

 

They hadn't bothered to cuff him to the chair, meaning he wasn't there as a suspect. It was odd, after having spent enough time in the rooms, but he wasn't going to bitch. So when he shifted, he propped a scuffed, booted heel up on the corner of the table, sprawling inelegantly. It did little to dispel the nerves and unease that threatened to take over.

 

"Company's coming." Was all the Dick would say. There was a knock and he moved to the door. Reid tensed and cocked his head, chewing at the inside of his cheek nervously. Company? What the fuck?

 

"I thought _you_ had questions?" But he was speaking to O'Flaherty's back. And it was clear that there weren't going to be any from the Detective.

 

The door opened, admitting a very tall and very handsome (and very Federal-looking) man. Nearly black eyes zeroed in to where Reid sat slouched, and eyebrows climbed toward his dark hairline. There was just a hint of silver at the temples, something Reid would call distinguished and kinda fucking hot. Licking his lips, Reid shifted and crossed his arms over his chest. Anything to try and dispel the nerves that were twisting his stomach in knots and making him feel slightly ill.

 

"Reid, this is Special Agent Zane Garrett of the FBI. Zane is a good friend of mine. And when I brought you in and got a real good look at you, I had to put in a call."

 

Reid blinked, gaze darting between the two men. "Yeah, okay. Why?" He couldn't decide who was more intimidating at that moment, though the Feeb was definitely pinging hard on his 'freak the fuck out'-o-meter. The boot was still on the table, and he fought to put on the outward appearance of calm, but he was anything but. The fact that O'Flaherty had called based on his appearance had gone completely over his head.

 

Garrett pulled the other chair out, flipped it around and took a seat, sitting so he wasn't blocking Reid from the mirror. His arms rested easily against the back of the chair and he gazed steadily at Reid, as though reading something the brunet couldn't see. Was there someone on the other side, maybe? He glanced toward the mirror suspiciously and then returned the stare, shaking his head once to shift his too-long hair.

 

"This isn't going to be easy to hear, Mister Grimm," Garrett started, long fingers steepled on the chair. They rested lightly against his chin. "But we have reason to believe you're part of a decades'-old missing persons case."

 

" _That's_ what this is about? Jesus fuck, I thought you were gonna tell me some goddamned gang was after me for crossing into their territory or something." Reid visibly sagged and laughed ruefully. "Tell me somethin' I don't know Sherlock. The fucker who kept me 'til I was sixteen? He as much as admitted he wasn't my daddy. So fuckin' what?" He blew out a soft breath and reached up to drag a hand through his hair, pulling it back out of his face. The moment he did, Garrett sat forward, eyes widening a fraction. 

 

"What?" Reid's eyes widened, too, and he cocked his head, stilling. He was clearly ill at ease with the handsome detective.

 

"You look like someone I know." Was all Garrett said. But there was something in the way he said it that caught Reid's attention.

 

"Yeah? This why you're here? I can't imagine some missing kid case would go federal. I ain't no trust fund baby." He dropped his hand and tucked it under his armpit to hide the nerves. This guy was unnerving him in the worst possible way. He hated authority. Fuckers had never actually helped him when he needed it. Hell, they'd hauled _him_ in when he'd finally grown a pair big enough to go against Paul. He'd been released, of course, but that hadn't been the point. Sixteen-fucking-years-old and he'd been arrested because he couldn't take any more of what his Keeper had been doing to him.

 

"It might be. I needed to see for myself before we proceeded any further." He glanced up at the Detective and nodded once. Reid's eyes narrowed suspiciously, following their nonverbal discussion. Clearly O'Flaherty had felt the same as Garrett, because the man nodded and moved closer to the door. Reid was still confused as to why it would have mattered. Who the hell would have actually cared enough to look for him? Paul had said... "There was a DNA test performed." Garrett interrupted his thoughts, bringing Reid back to focus on the older man. "The results were a match."

 

"Meaning..?" He waved a hand, hoping the Agent couldn't see the fine tremor. A match? To whom?

 

"Meaning, a call was put in and your family is coming to meet you."

 

"Bullshit." Reid was moving before he even realized he'd done it. The chair screeched along the floor, before he finally stopped moving. He put the chair and table between himself and the two men in the room. Nostrils flaring, he shook his head. "No. I don't have family. He said..." Reid broke off, gaze dancing between the two men, the mirror and the door. _Don't go there_ , he thought. _Don't give them the ammunition_. He reacted as though the door would burst open at any moment. That maybe Paul, or worse, might come through and demand their pound of flesh.

 

Garrett stood when Reid did, but didn't close the distance. His expression was sympathetic, Reid couldn't suss out any more than that. Was this some kind of tactic? Reach the hostile and comfort them? Draw them down from the proverbial ledge? Reid didn't have the experience to draw from to know what Garrett was doing, but he balked when the Agent opened his mouth. "He said they didn't want you? Is that it? Told you no one cared that you were missing?"

 

Reid's jaw tightened and he hugged himself, feeling prickly and defensive. He backed further away, bumping against the wall. This was so far beyond okay, he couldn't cope. "Doesn't matter."

 

"Reid," Garrett finally made a move. Both hands up, he took a tentative step closer. Reid tried to back away from the man, but the wall was already at his back. He had no escape. He eyed those hands and wondered if it was all some cruel joke. There was no contest who would win if they tussled. Where Reid might have been tall, he was skinny and probably malnourished. This guy looked like a solid, fucking brick wall. 

 

"Look, it doesn't matter, okay?" Reid finally brought his head up, defiant. He met those dark eyes and glared. He wouldn't win in a fight, but that didn't mean he was a fucking coward. He spat the words, anger and fear overwhelming him. "Doesn't matter what he said 'cause he's dead. I don't have family. Never have."

 

"We both know that's not true." Garrett half-turned and gestured toward the mirror. Reid followed the movement, eyes falling on his reflection. He hated how pathetic he looked compared to the other man. How weak. Paul would have beaten him black and blue for showing weakness. "There's someone on the other side of that mirror who has been waiting twenty-five years to see you."

 

Reid shook his head, gaze wild. Panic finally set in and he fought to keep from hyperventilating. "No. You're _wrong_!" He flung both hands out as if to ward off the words and the idea that there might actually be someone who wanted him around. "There's..."

 

The door opened. He'd missed the knock. But the man standing in the doorway was unmistakable. It was like looking into a slightly off-kilter mirror. If that mirror wore a suit and tie and looked like a military recruitment poster. A mirror who was gazing at him as though he was the second-fucking-coming. Or a dream. Something Reid had no words for. There was question, sure, in those green eyes. But there was relief. There was hope. There was a longing that Reid had never seen aimed his direction. His back met the corner and he pressed both palms to the walls on either side of him, staring at the man who looked so much like he did. 

 

"This is your brother, Reid." Garrett broke the spell. "His name is Ty Grady. And he's been looking for you since you were taken. Just like the rest of your family."


	2. Chapter 2

Reid was dreaming. It was, however, unlike any of the other dreams he'd once entertained about meeting his birth family.

 

He'd figured it out, early on, that Paul wasn't his father. The man looked nothing like him. The few times Reid had asked where his family was, Paul had launched into a rage and locked him in the basement until Reid had cried himself out or hidden from further abuse. He learned quickly not to ask. And as the boy grew older, the punishments went a more physical direction.

 

As he leaned against the wall, staring at the man who he'd been told was his brother, he could feel the ridges from the whip scars pressing against the painted brick.

 

"Reid..?" The voice was hesitant, as though Ty couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. He moved as though he, too, was in a dream. Slow, hands loose at his side, eyes wide and drinking in everything that was Reid. It was surreal and a little creepy.

 

"Is that really my name?" The question came out before he could stop himself. Reid mentally kicked himself for that. For the tone. For the fact that he was feeling like someone had taken steel wool and scrubbed him raw with it. His breath was coming too fast and he was pressed as far into the corner as he could get. Ty had stopped at the corner of the desk, next to Garrett. They stood, like statues, staring at Reid together. 

 

"Reid Aaron Grady." Ty nodded once, voice hushed. He was too calm, and Reid realized he recognized the tactic. He'd seen cops talk Silky the Hooker down from a ledge after too much meth. They'd used that same, calm tone. Ty was attempting to sooth him.

 

"It's not uncommon," Garrett said, equally softly. "Kidnappers will use the given name, because it's easier than explaining why they're calling the child by another name."

 

"We thought maybe it was a cougar." Ty looked like he was torn between wanting to laugh and cry. "Ma found your shoe, kept it. But we were never sure. It'd happened before."

 

Reid's brow rose at that. "Cougar? As in..?" He mimed cat claws with his hand, swiping at the air. Ty actually flinched a little at that, but nodded. 

 

"There wasn't any blood, but that didn't mean it couldn't have carried you off. We looked." He shook his head, eyes going distant for a moment. "We never stopped looking."

 

"What are your earliest memories?" Garrett prompted, gently propelling Ty closer to where Reid stood.

 

Distracted by the questioning, Reid shook his head. It didn't matter what his earliest memories were. It didn't matter if this guy was his brother or not. Too much time had passed. They wouldn't want him now. They wouldn't want a dirty street walker for a son. "Doesn't matter.." He ground out. 

 

"Try. Please?" Ty prompted, and Reid startled when the shadow fell over him. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. He stiffened and looked up at the older man with eyes so like his own. He swallowed audibly, mouth feeling like a desert.  Ty hadn't attempted to touch him or pull him into an embrace, but Reid was ready to bolt. He didn't like to be touched unless it'd been arranged and paid for. No one touched him, otherwise.

 

"I... I don't know," Reid hedged, gaze dropping to focus on the obvious bulge in Ty's coat. A gun. He knew that from experience. The guy had a gun. Blinking past that, he shook his head and chewed at his lip. "A.." He blew out a soft breath and closed his eyes, trying to remember the fractured, fragmented memories. "A gravel road. Rocks. There was a.. barn?" He opened his eyes and cocked his head. "It's not a barn, exactly, but it kinda is." Ty was nodding quietly. 

 

"And a shovel."

 

"A shovel?" Ty asked, brows raising. A hopeful little smile curved his lips.

 

"Yeah, a shovel. I don't know why I remember it, but I do."

 

There was a soft huff. "Grandpa Chester keeps a shovel. Brought it back from the war. Carries it with him everywhere."

 

Reid fought to keep from giving into the urge to slide down the wall. His knees shook with the effort to remain standing. "So it's real, then? They aren't some delusion I cooked up as a kid to cope with the shit I had to endure?"

 

Ty shook his head, still not closing the distance. Still careful. "You're not delusional. That's the house. We lived up in the mountains. Ma and Dad still live there." He didn't mention that the room that had once been Reid's had been locked up and not used. It was probably easier that way.

 

There was a soft, wounded sound that escaped Reid before he could stop it, and he shoved past the pair and away from the suffocating closeness. He paced a little, trying to keep distance between the men and himself. Thankfully, no one attempted to get close again. Hands up, as if to ward off the memories, Reid tried to reconcile everything that was his life. "You don't want me. Look, I dunno how much your buddy here -" he gestured toward O'Flaherty who had remained close to the door. "- told you, but I'm not exactly a model citizen. You're fucking Feebs." As if that answered everything. He waved a hand at their nice suits and weapons and their world that he knew nothing about. "I live in a building with drug addicts and ex-cons and sell myself so I can make ends meet. You really think _they_ want to meet someone like _that_?" He meant their parents, but he couldn't even say the word. Couldn't imagine having a mother or a father.

 

"Reid.." Ty began, but Reid wasn't done. He sliced his hand through the air, giving both of the Agents a dark look.

 

"Don't. You don't know what I've been through. You don't know my life. You don't know what he did to me. He was right. They don't want me. They want some idealized memory of what I could have been. Of what I was." Reid was hyperventilating, by that point, but he had to get it out. "Tell 'em whatever you want. Tell 'em it was a case of mistaken identity. That I really was eaten by some goddamned mountain lion or what the fuck ever. Please. I can't.." He stopped, finally losing the battle with the lump in his throat. He turned away, hands scrubbing at his face. And when he spoke again, his voice cracked. "I can't.."

 

He didn't fight when he felt someone pull him close. The smell of Old Spice and gun oil greeted him and he sagged against the solid form. There was nothing left to fight. Nothing left in him. A strangled sob escaped him and Reid clung like he was afraid he'd wake up alone. Again.

 

"Shhh..." Ty soothed him. He glanced back at Zane, who had pushed Ty toward his brother when it looked like Reid was going to bolt. Ty gave Zane and then Nick a helpless expression. One that clearly said he was out of his element. This was one thing he'd never been good at. Leave the grieving widows and crying people to someone who could handle it better. But there was none better, in that moment, than him. "C'mon, let's go over to the office across the hall, okay? We'll talk." He didn't want to mention that once the DNA test had come back as a definitive match, they'd called Mara and Earl and informed them that they'd found Reid. Alive. And that Ty was going to intercept him first.

 

The entire family was coming.

 

Shaking, Reid pulled back and scrubbed at his face again. He refused to make eye contact as he wiped away the evidence of his own weakness. "Fine.." He was slowly letting the numbness settle over him. Whether or not it was shock, he didn't know. But he was painfully overwhelmed. How often did someone learn that they'd been wanted and missed and loved, after having had none? He didn't even notice that they'd left the interrogation room. Not until the backs of his knees met the couch in the office across the hall, did he finally realize he was in another room. He blinked, dazed, and glanced around. 

 

Garrett stood outside the room, but didn't enter. He and O'Flaherty were talking in low tones, leaving the brothers a modicum of privacy.

 

"They want you, Reid. We never gave up. Every year, Ma would go and light a candle at church for you. On your birthday and on the anniversary of your disappearance. She never gave up. Dad, well.." He huffed and cocked his head, smile rueful. "He didn't talk about it. We just figured.. we didn't know."

 

"There was a rash of kidnappings not far from you guys. In Princeton and Athens." Garrett said, leaning in. He didn't intrude, but kept watch over the pair. "I looked into it when Nick contacted me with the news. Figured it was worth looking into." Ty nodded and settled not far from Reid, in a garishly colored armchair. It must have been some kind of unwritten rule that every cop precinct needed to have a colorblind lumberjack as an interior decorator. The couch Reid sat on was painfully mismatched, though it was comfortable. Idly, Reid wondered how many grieving family members had sat in that very office and watched as their loved ones were carted away in chains, destined for a life behind bars.

 

He shuddered at the thought.

 

"You mentioned," Garrett intruded on his thoughts again, guy was scarily good at that. "That you'd been working the streets."

 

Reid nodded, rubbing the heel of his hand against his cheek. "Yeah, what about it?"

 

"How old were you when you started?"

 

Without looking, Reid could almost feel Ty tense. This was a conversation he really didn't want to have. It was a conversation no one really wanted to have. Reid shut his eyes and forced everything down. All of his insecurities and glaring flaws were ruthlessly shoved aside. "Fourteen."

 

"Jesus." Ty breathed, eyes shutting. He bowed his head. Even Garrett looked a little sick.

 

"I was sixteen when I struck out on my own. Got sick of what Paul was doin' to me. Waited til one night he was drunk and feeling.. y'know." He rolled his eyes, staring straight ahead. It was clinical, detached, the way he described it. "He came in and when he wasn't looking, I pulled out a knife I'd gotten from one of my clients. Stabbed him in the throat. Lay there, covered in his blood, until I knew he was dead. And then I called the cops and told 'em what I did."

 

"You didn't even try to deny it?" Ty asked, voice rough. It was clear he was having a hard time coping with the idea.

 

Reid shook his head, and dragged a surprisingly shaky hand through his hair. Once upon a time, he'd been better at talking about his past. He attributed it to the audience. "I was just thankful he was dead. Couldn't.. do anything anymore, y'know?" Reid licked his lips and sighed softly. "They arrested me, but I think it was to get me cleaned up and off the streets. Judge took one look at me, at the pictures and evidence they'd gathered, and tossed it out. Said it was a clean-cut case of self defense. Never convicted. I think he didn't like the idea of seeing me going to prison with guys who'd do worse to me." He shrugged and tucked his hands under his thighs, not wanting to admit to himself that he was shaking.

 

Ty looked sick. Garrett didn't look much better. "Were you put into foster care?" Garrett asked.

 

Reid nodded. "I ran away the first night. Refused it. I didn't want to be in the system. I was two years shy of bein' considered a full adult. Two years of hell as some goddamned meal-ticket? Fuck you, no. I figured I'd have it easier on my own." Whether or not that would have been true was anyone's guess. "Wound up bein' taken in by a guy who worked the club circuit in drag. He an' his buddies took care of me and treated me nice. Taught me how to turn tricks safely and pick people who wouldn't hurt me or try to kill me."

 

"Don't you mean she?" Garrett's brow furrowed.

 

"Nah, he preferred the male pronoun." Reid shook his head. "They liked what they liked and I didn't judge. Didn't really care, y'know? He was the one who got me working the club scene when I wasn't on the streets. Kept me from falling into the wrong crowd and gettin' into harder stuff."

 

"So you don't use?" Reid shook his head at Ty's question. There was something akin to relief in the older man's face.

 

"I've never used. I saw what it did to Paul and his buddies. Saw what it did to people I worked the streets with. I needed that control to keep from getting used and abused worse." Or dead. He'd heard those tales too. Kids his age who used, turned tricks and either OD'd or were murdered by their clients.  Reid licked his lips. "Am I gonna have to tell _them_ this, too?" 

 

Ty shook his head. "Only if you wanna. But I can imagine that it's gonna be something that isn't easy to talk about. For anyone."

 

Reid huffed softly and sagged back. "Tell me about it."

 

"Did he hit you?" Garrett asked.

 

Reid shook his head. And then hedged a little. Finally, he rubbed at the back of his neck and made a face. "Sometimes. But never in the face. He said my face was money." He tapped his own shoulder and shook his head. "He had other, more creative ways of punishing me when I did things he considered bad."

 

"Like what..?" But Garrett was moving closer, expression bordering on pity.

 

Reid didn't want pity. He gave the older man a dark look and stood slowly. "What's done is done." He said softly, and it was odd as hell, trying to comfort a man who had no idea what he'd endured. Turning, Reid tugged at the hem of his shirt and pulled it up so they could see the scars that marred his back. One curled around his side and disappeared beneath his jeans. He could feel the heat of Garrett's hand against his back, but there was no contact. He didn't touch.

 

"Not gonna lie," Ty said softly, voice full of anguish and more than a little anger. "I'm glad he's dead. Because if he wasn't, I'd find the fucker and kill him myself."

 

Reid pulled his shirt down and settled back on the couch, putting distance between himself and the two men. O'Flaherty had vanished from his post outside the door. "He stopped when I started turning tricks for him. Said he didn't want to damage the goods anymore than they already were. As it was, I had to lay on my back." He shrugged a shoulder and sneered a little, remembering. 

 

"You could stop. Find a regular job."

 

"With what?" Reid looked up at Garrett and laughed humorlessly. It was a sad sound. "I taught myself how to read. I never went to school. He couldn't risk anyone seeing the bruises or cuts." He looked away. "Or worse, recognizing me and taking me away." It dawned on him, though, that the family thought he'd been taken away by a mountain lion, not a human. "But then, that wouldn't have happened, would it?" He looked at Ty who refused to meet his eyes. "You guys said I was part of some missing person's thing, but I wasn't, was I? There was never anything done for me."

 

Ty shut his eyes and bowed his head forward. "Not officially. But that didn't mean we didn't stop looking." He inhaled slowly and gazed at his brother. "It was part of the reason I accepted the offer to become an FBI agent. I had hopes of being able to find you."

 

The knock at the door startled all three men. Though the wall was glass, none had seen O'Flaherty come up. "We have guests..."


End file.
